Chapter 83: The Seventy-Two Divine Seals

Without a doubt, the emergence of such a beautiful, traditionally styled song in the entertainment industry—a piece steeped in the ancient elegance of classical culture—would have a profound effect, potentially resonating with many who cherish tradition. The complementary blend of this new school of ancient lyrics and melodies should earn recognition from both the music industry and even musicians at the national level.

His primary aim was not to showcase himself, but rather to consider whether, if Jin Xishan were to be increasingly imbued with elements of Huaxia culture, her influence and popularity in this country could be rapidly expanded. With such a distinctly Chinese-style song, and lyrics of such lofty poetic imagination, he could find no reason why it would not become a sensation.

At that moment, he was sorely tempted to call Jin Xishan, share his thoughts, and sing the entire piece to her over the phone. But reason quickly prevailed, and he suppressed his eagerness, instead focusing his attention on practicing the Seventy-Two Divine Locks and the insights it offered.

The Seventy-Two Divine Locks was a form of grappling routine, intricately complex and meticulously structured, its movements ever-changing and unpredictable, with exceptional practical value. It was neither a form of boxing nor any other hard or soft martial art; rather, it was a skill that, with a thorough understanding of the body's tendons and joints, subdued opponents using finesse, rendering them incapable of resistance and forcing their surrender.

As it mainly relied on the palms and fingers, practitioners had to train their fingers diligently, placing special emphasis on the thumb, middle, and index fingers. The seventy-two unique grappling techniques originated from the Seventy-Two Divine Locks, which are divided into thirty-six hard and thirty-six soft skills.

This art synthesized knowledge of joint movement patterns, vital points, human physiology and vulnerabilities, as well as principles of balance and biomechanics, forming a close-quarter combat and grappling skill. Unlike the dazzling Flower Fist Thirty-Six Hands, even with Liu Qingshan’s rudimentary grasp of only a tenth of its essence, the moment he executed the moves, the specific trajectories became indistinguishable.

That was from his own subjective viewpoint; to an outsider, all they would see were fleeting afterimages of swinging arms, utterly unable to predict the direction of the next strike—a truly impenetrable defense. Its practical effect far surpassed its visual appeal. In real combat, unlike the light and spectacular Flower Fist Thirty-Six Hands, it left no trace but adversaries lying on the ground, their joints and pressure points subdued.

If the former was pleasing to the eye, the latter was shocking and terrifying.

This was true close-quarters combat technique. If one were to add a dagger to the mix, each move would become a killing technique, lethal in a single strike, no less effective than the legendary sword-drawing arts.

All physical skills obtained through the Supernova Talent System skipped the initial arduous training process; only a gradual, methodical practice was needed to fully comprehend and master them.

The next day, after several hours of deep immersion, Liu Qingshan had mastered the entire set of Seventy-Two Divine Locks to perfection. He had no intention of revealing this technique for now; his rapid increase in martial prowess was already astonishing enough and had to be revealed only gradually.

During breakfast, Yu Yi conveniently brought Li Qi and his group over. They had successfully signed contracts with “The Return of the Condor Heroes” production crew the day before. After lunch, they would have to hurry back to Hengdian, as the upcoming preparations allowed no room for error.

As for the future employment of Li Juan and her husband, that could only be addressed after some of the crew’s work was complete. Uncle Ping was in need of people at the moment; it would not do to disrupt things for him.

That afternoon, after returning from the airport to the National Martial Arts Hall, Wang Huansheng had already prepared a large stack of printed publications with relevant stories for Liu Qingshan. After skimming through them and considering the information sent by Ma Mandi early in the morning, Liu Qingshan smiled at Park Hyejin. “You were right—people’s curiosity about novelty far exceeds their interest in the truth or falsehood of entertainment gossip.”

Park Hyejin was delighted as well. “It’s still your rescue video that grabs the most attention.”

“But doesn’t that also mean I’ve revealed too much too soon? Won’t the content of future film shoots lose some freshness?”

“You know, you’re always so thorough in your considerations, but when something happens, you become overly cautious—I don’t even know how to describe it,” Yu Yi chimed in, predictably siding with Park Hyejin. “Hyejin, this guy isn’t really seeking your opinion; it’s just another way to show off.”

Liu Qingshan rolled his eyes at Yu Yi’s biased banter and retorted, “Yu, you’re two years older than Hyejin, so why do you call her ‘sister’? Or is this just your way of currying favor?”

Seeing Park Hyejin’s cheeks flush, Yu Yi was not embarrassed but rather stirred within. “You’re just a kid—how would you know how adults interact?”

Though he spoke, his gaze lingered on someone, his tone clearly perfunctory.

Liu Qingshan shot him a look of scorn. “You may be older, but as far as I know, you were a pure novice before, with no romantic experience.”

“That’s because I was too focused on martial arts to be distracted. It’s called unwavering determination, thank you very much.”

“And why aren’t you determined now? The moment you start having feelings for someone, you start calling her ‘sister’?”

“What do you know? It’s called adding a little spice—right, Hyejin?”

Yu Yi had only gotten halfway through his sentence when he saw signs that Park Hyejin was about to lose her temper, and hurried to distract her.

In truth, Park Hyejin was already overwhelmed by a mix of shyness and embarrassment. Though a mother of two, her usual brashness was easily overshadowed by the long-lost bashfulness of first love.

Liu Qingshan, well aware of her feelings, nonetheless knew she would be mortified in front of so many people.

Fortunately, Liu Qingshan knew when to stop. He quickly offered her an out, “Hyejin, in my eyes you’re the big sister here. Why not just take Yu Yi in and be done with it? That way, he won’t be loitering around you all day!”

His way of easing the tension was unique—teasing her so she could slip back into her usual straightforward and bold demeanor.

Sure enough, Park Hyejin instantly recovered her composure. “Well, I suppose I’ll reluctantly accept this little brother,” she replied.

Some things are just that simple—the more openly one deals with a hint of ambiguity, the less people will speculate in private. Especially with Park Hyejin’s marital status in the open, rumors about her would always be met with skepticism, even among their own circle.

Yu Yi, no fool himself, was just as aware of the fleeting awkwardness in Park Hyejin’s heart.

So he quickly responded, “Well, now I have every reason to flatter you openly!”

Even though many present understood what was happening, their relationships were close enough that no one spoke as freely as Liu Qingshan.

It was just as well that Mao Shaochong was not present; otherwise, he would have seized the opportunity to mock Yu Yi without hesitation.